Guilty Soul
by Nicola
Summary: Yet another interpretation of what SHOULD have happened in the argument in DMP.


Guilty Soul  
By Nicola  
  
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Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the plot, or the setting. Don't sue.   
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: DMP, Becoming I & II  
Season: 3  
Started: Aug 09th '01 Completed: Aug 10th '01  
Teaser: Yet another interpretation of what should have happened during the argument.  
Notes: So I'm being unoriginal; sue me! I'll write what I damn well want, and if you don't like, don't read! That simple.  
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It was too much to bear alone. Surrounding her were people she loved, and each held an accusing stare, aimed directly at her heart. Couldn't they see that she was wallowing in her pain, drowning in her guilt? Couldn't they see that she was already suffering enough torment, without them all adding to it? She tried to feel angry, tried to make rage come forth, but it was all gone. The last spark of anger had vanished in her fight with Angel that May, and in its place was despair and misery. The sadness washed through her again, and a huge sob erupted from her chest. The others were silenced, shocked at the rare sound from Buffy. She looked at each them with watery eyes, anguish written all over her features.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, sinking wearily to the floor, but all the while looking up at them, at her mother, at Giles, Willow, Xander, Oz, even Cordelia; she was apologising to them all. The tears rolled down her cheeks and into her lap, soaking through her clothes. Her mind failed to register the shock on everyone's faces, the pity, the confusion. They didn't know, they couldn't know, why her soul was crying out for forgiveness, understanding, help, anything to make the guilt go away. But it couldn't, she knew that. It would never go away. His face, his gorgeous face, would haunt her until the day she died, the confusion and hurt and love in his gaze crystal clear in her mind every time she closed her eyes.  
  
A shadow cast over her, and she realised that her friends were all kneeling beside her, asking why she was crying. How could they be so kind to her, a murderer? More importantly, why? She couldn't find it within herself to reply, her emotions too heavy for her to get past. Strong arms lifter her from the floor and carried her up the stairs into her old bedroom. The soft covers and pillows were warm and inviting, but Buffy resisted them. She couldn't sleep, that was when the dreams came. The nightmares that plagued her whenever she dared close her eyes. Visions of Angel, wounded and bleeding, staring up at her with accusing eyes, damning her name over and over. But try as she might, emotional exhaustion overtook her quickly, and her friends were relieved to see her sleeping.   
  
They trudged back downstairs, making themselves comfortable in the living room in whatever space they could find. None spoke, too shocked to see Buffy so damaged and frail. It wasn't long before wailing screams echoed down the stairs. They thundered up to Buffy's room and what they saw broke their hearts.   
  
The Slayer tossed and turned in the bed, the covers twisting with her legs as she kicked and punched vainly at the air, gallantly but fruitlessly fighting whatever evil plagued her dreams. Tears streamed down her face as she reached out for someone, something.  
  
"ANGEL!" she cried, arching off the bed before throwing herself into an upright position, her eyes wide open and her breathing laboured. Sweat and tears mingled on her cheeks as she looked about in panic, regaining her bearings. She flopped back onto the bed, oblivious to her audience, a tormented moan escaping her as she curled up into a tight ball and cried.   
  
In silent agreement, the observers turned and walked back down the stairs. They found their previous positions in the living room and gladly fell back into them. Tears coursed freely from Willow and Joyce, and Xander was mute for once. No sound was heard throughout the house, bar Buffy's sobbing, 'til dawn.  
  
*****  
  
Willow was first to rise, when Buffy tiptoed down the creaky stairs. The redhead followed her into the kitchen, where Buffy set about getting herself juice. While her back was turned, Willow asked her the million dollar question,   
  
"What happened in May, Buffy?" Buffy visibly tensed. After a long moment, she put down the carton of OJ and lifter her eyes to the ceiling, her hair falling past her shoulders.  
  
"He opened the door, I sent him through it," she replied with a shaky voice. Slowly she turned, and Willow gave her a reproachful look.  
  
"And that has you screaming his name at night?" she pushed sympathetically. Buffy froze again, looking at Willow through her glass.  
  
"How do you..." she began.  
  
"We heard you last night Buffy," Giles supplied, entering from the living room. "From that alone it's obvious something happened in Spring that effected you deeply." Buffy's eyes teared up again.  
  
"I...I...I can't!" She raced from the room and dashed up the stairs, back to the safety of her bed. She fell onto it, tears soaking her pillow as silent sobs wracked her body.   
  
Willow and Giles exchanged worried glances as they sat around the breakfast bar.  
  
"Killing Angelus wouldn't have affected her this much, Giles," Willow pointed out sadly. The Watcher nodded in grave agreement.   
  
"It appears something terribly drastic happened in May, and I doubt Buffy herself will tell us. Are you sure the curse worked?" he asked. Willow nodded.  
  
"It went through me and into another body. Angel's soul found a body..." she trailed off as a sudden and horrid thought struck her. "What...what if I managed to return his soul, but it was too late. Buffy said that 'he opened the door, and she sent him through it'. What if she had to send Angel with a soul through it," she suggested.  
  
"Sending him to Hell," Giles finished with a grimace. All colour drained from Willow's face.  
  
"Oh my God!" she whispered, more tears for her friend spilling over, "And we called her selfish!" Suddenly her anger at her friend was replaced by a terrible guilt.   
  
"We have to talk to her," Giles said with urgency.  
  
"Talk to who and why?" Xander asked, yawning, as he joined them in the kitchen.  
  
"Buffy killed Angel," Willow told him as she and Giles abruptly stood and filed out. Xander frowned.  
  
"Isn't that a good thing?" he asked, following them.   
  
"Buffy killed good Angel," Willow corrected herself, jogging up the stairs after Giles. Giving up trying to understand, Xander plonked himself back on the sofa.  
  
Buffy pretended not to hear the footsteps on the stairs, or the gentle but persistent knocking on the door. She wanted to be left alone, and she was simply going to ignore them. But then her mind did a little guilt trip. She'd been alone and away from her friends for the whole summer, the deserved to see as much or as little of her as they wanted. And with that thought in mind, she pulled herself away from her tear soaked covers to open the door.  
  
Giles looked down at Buffy with a half-smile, silently asking permission to enter. Behind him Willow shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other, looking at anything but Buffy. The Slayer took it as a sign of contempt and, sniffling slightly, reluctantly pulled open the door. Her Watcher and her old best friend stepped through and stood in the centre of the room, looking lost for words and totally unprepared. Buffy didn't dare speak in case she burst into tears again. Finally, Giles cleared his throat looking about for a place to sit. Buffy offered them her bed and she sat by her desk, steeling herself against whatever accusations they were going to shoot at her. Eventually Giles looked her square in the eyes, and the look in his forced her not to break his stare.  
  
"Willow and I were talking, and we came across a quite devastating scenario that caused you to run away," he stated. Buffy swallowed; they couldn't have guessed, could they?  
  
"What did you mean earlier?" Willow asked, her voice wavering. Buffy looked down at her hands twisting nervously in her lap.  
  
"He pulled out the sword," she whispered brokenly, more tears dripping onto her fingers. She wiped at her cheeks hastily, not wanting to cry in front of her friends.  
  
"That's not what I meant Buffy. You said you sent him through it," Willow pushed. Buffy's shoulders shook with suppressed sobs as she replied,  
  
"He awoke Acathla. I closed Acathla." Giles frowned.  
  
"Buffy, what..." he trailed off when Willow laid a hand on his arm, and moved to kneel before Buffy. She took the Slayer's hands in her own, and forced her to look her in the eye.  
  
"I did the spell to return his soul. It worked," she said with a watery smile. Buffy looked horrified.  
  
"That was you?" she asked, her voice breaking. Willow's forehead crumpled.  
  
"Yeah, it was me. Didn't you know? Xander should've told you," she replied, confused. A small sob escaped Buffy's control.  
  
"He told me you said to 'kick his ass'," she murmured. Willow gasped,  
  
"I would never say that." Giles cleared his throat again, and the two girls separated.  
  
"Angel's soul obviously returned, or you wouldn't have known at all, but where is Angel now?" he asked. Buffy seemed to shrink on herself, her face contorting with guilt and misery.   
  
"No!" Willow uttered in disbelief. Buffy nodded, her sadness pushing all her tears out. She flinched away from Willow's hand on her shoulder, but was quickly pulled into a tight embrace, their tears mingling and their sobs joint. Giles left, feeling uncomfortable about the entire situation. He felt a great deal of satisfaction that Angel was suffering in Hell, but Buffy was also suffering in her own personal Hell and that hurt him deeply.  
  
He entered the living room looking more tired that he did the previous night. At everyone's questioning looks, he said,  
  
"Willow and I have got to the route of the mystery. Buffy had to send Angel to Hell." Confusion turned to remorse and sorrow, except on Joyce, who grew even more confused.  
  
"What?" she asked. Giles sighed, sinking into an armchair.  
  
"Hell is a literal dimension of the damned, and..." he began, but Joyce interrupted,  
  
"Wait, start from the beginning. Angel was Buffy's history tutor, who ended up stalking her, and from then on I'm lost." Cordelia huffed impatiently as the knowledgeable members began a trip down memory lane.  
  
They were just finishing the saga of Buffy and Angel when a puffy-eyed Willow returned. With a watery smile at everyone she nodded towards the door.  
  
"I think we should leave Mrs. Summers alone. Buffy promises to come to the library everyday." She didn't leave room for argument, grabbing her coat and waving goodbye to Joyce before walking out. The others followed immediately, leaving Joyce with a broken daughter and no idea in the world how to fix it. Willow popped her head back in before she could move, saying with a grin, "No worries Mrs. Summers. Things'll work out!" And then she was gone. Joyce sighed, and sank back further into the sofa. She only hoped Willow was right.  
  
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End  



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